Of all the aspects of the live experience, it may be the part that translates the least over TV. It’s just so loud. That sounds stupid, but it’s true. You don’t realize it until you’re there, sitting in your seat, waiting for the next fight to start. Then the music kicks on — BAM — assaulting your eardrums with an announcement of things to come.

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You hear it before you know who or what it portends. But the best of them? Ah, those require no explanation. You hear the first notes of the song, and you immediately know who’s about to come through that curtain. Like their counterparts in pro wrestling, the best anthems get you excited for the person before that person has even come into view. The really good ones, they become synonymous with the fighter who lays claim to them. Inseparable, even.

I think about live MMA events I’ve attended over the years, and the music is a big part of what I remember now. That’s true for the unique experiences — Conor McGregor being serenaded on his walk by a live performance from Sinead O’Connor, now that’s memorable — as well as the ones that are more or less the same every time.

I remember feeling my pulse quicken when I heard those first few notes of “Sandstorm” heralding the arrival of Wanderlei Silva. The hair on the back of my neck stood up when The Rolling Stones’ “Gimme Shelter” played Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira down to the cage. Michel Bisping is still solely responsible for 90 percent of the positive feelings I have toward the annoyingly titled “Song 2” by Blur (also known as the “woo-hoo!” song). Fedor Emelianenko’s choice of something that sounded like the ominous chanting of Russian monks felt perfectly foreboding and a little bit chilling.

For other, lesser-known fighters, the music choice is often the first opportunity we get to form an opinion. You hear a song you like, and you’re ready to give this new guy the benefit of the doubt. You hear one you don’t, and you stand there waiting to get a look at the idiot who thought this was a good idea.

Especially in the UFC’s “Reebok era,” which offers no chance to assert any individuality in the wardrobe department, walkout music is arguably more important than ever. It may be the best chance left to craft an identity or a signature style. And most fighters? Yeah, they take it pretty seriously.

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But how do you choose a good walkout song? Do you go with something that will appeal to the masses and get the crowd hyped for your arrival, or do you instead go with something more personally meaningful to you and damn what anyone else thinks about it?

I remember Mike Swick telling me he chose Tupac Shakur only because it reminded him of when he first started training, working out in a sweatbox gym in Texas where they only seemed to have the “All Eyez On Me” album and nothing else to choose from. He heard Tupac’s voice, and suddenly he was right back there, young and hungry and willing to walk through fire. It helped to be reminded of that right before he walked out to fight, he said.

“The Barn Cat” Tamdan McCrory once stood in the octagon after a win and passionately informed the crowd that his original walkout music choice — “Thunderhorse” by Dethklok — had been vetoed by the UFC. He insisted on bringing this up, apropos of nothing, in his post-fight interview. That’s how badly he wanted people to know.

“(UFC President) Dana (White) picks my music,” McCrory said. “I didn’t pick that, just so everybody knows.”

For a time, any song by Eminem was considered such bad luck that it was practically a kiss of death, though fighters kept on using them. UFC light heavyweight champion Jon Jones once admitted that he chose Bob Marley mostly as a means of tamping down the boos, since who can be mad while Marley’s chill vibes are spreading through the room? Meanwhile, Jim Miller made us all reflect on the fact that we never realized what an ominous song “Bad Moon Rising” is until it’s played right before a fistfight, while Roy Nelson once used his walkout music to poke fun at his own physique with help from “Weird” Al Yankovic’s “Fat.”

But choosing just the right walkout song can be one of those decisions that fighters sometimes torture themselves over, according to UFC lightweight Scott Holtzman. On one hand, you want to get the crowd of fans on your side, or at least get them to notice you. But also, you might just want to get yourself pumped up, and you probably already know what works for you regardless of whether or not others care for it.

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“That’s something you can struggle with,” Holtzman said. “Like, you could get the crowd dancing and moving or whatever. For example, I remember Bryan Barberena came out to ‘Baby Shark’ one time, and the crowd was doing the baby shark thing, and it was fun. But are you feeling pumped up to fight after that? But you might instead pick something that motivates you and makes you feel good, and people just might not like it.”

Don't put the kids to bed just yet… Baby shark, doo doo doo doo doo doo 🦈@bryan_barberena #UFCPhoenix

— ESPN MMA (@espnmma) February 18, 2019

When Holtzman fought Jim Miller last month, he said, Bon Jovi’s “Wanted Dead or Alive” was a no-brainer.

“I felt like, man, we’re probably going to go in here and stand there and beat the shit out of each other, like an Old West shootout,” Holtzman said. “So it just made sense. And I’ll tell you, walking to the cage with that playing, I felt like Billy the Kid or something. It was great, just rolling in like, yeah, come and get it.”

There is such a thing as getting overly pumped up to your own music choice, however. Former UFC welterweight and current UFC commentator Dan Hardy found that out early on in his career, he said, when he went with one of his favorite Pantera songs only to discover once he was in the fight that it got him too hyped to effectively stick to a game plan and pace himself appropriately.

Eventually, Hardy settled on “England Belongs to Me,” the ’70s punk anthem by London’s own Cock Sparrer.

“I chose it … (because) it had to be an old school punk song, as that’s what I grew up on and what represented my attitude best,” Hardy said. “And also because I knew I was the best welterweight in the U.K. and others had been signed (to the UFC) before me. I wanted everyone to know that this was my island, and I was the biggest fish in the pond.”

Walkout music can also become the focus of various superstitions. Hardy’s choice is a good example. His first four fights in the UFC, he said, he used the classic version of the song. But then Cock Sparrer recorded a new version, with Hardy himself adding some backing vocals. Naturally, he wanted to switch to that version as his walkout music.

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“The ‘oi oi’ at the beginning is me, and I sang on the gang vocals during the chorus,” Hardy said. “I never won a fight walking out to that track. So after four losses, I switched to a completely different song, ‘Iron’ by Woodkid, just to reset everything. Won the fight against (Duane) Ludwig, and then went back to the original 1970s version for my fight in Nottingham.”

But it’s a funny thing about music, how tied in it can be to memory. You know the feeling. You’re driving along and a song comes on the radio that you haven’t thought about in years, and instantly you’re transported back to high school, that one summer, maybe a first love. It’s not even so much a memory as a feeling, something visceral that you can almost touch.

That’s how it is for former UFC light heavyweight Jason Brilz. He’s been out of action for years now, though he still likes to get in the gym and mix it up when he can. Back in his heyday, he used to get crowds on their feet by walking out to “Bro Hymn (Tribute)” by Pennywise, that classic shout-along punk party song bellowed by countless drunk dudes with their arms draped around their buddies at keg parties all across America.

“Sometimes when you’re trying to pick a song you go through a few different options, thinking about how it would sound on fight night,” Brilz said. “Then you get one where, as soon as you hear it, you go, yep that’s the one. In fact, I don’t think I’d listen to ‘Bro Hymn’ more than a few times. I heard it and thought, this is it. It just spoke to me.”

It’s not the kind of song to come on in the supermarket or the dentist’s waiting room, but in the age of shuffling playlists and streaming music services, sure, every so often Brilz stumbles across it. And he may be 44 now, five years removed from his last pro fight, but as soon as he hears that opening bass line, something happens to him.

“It’s like right away, I get this weird feeling,” Brilz said. “It’s like a little pit in your stomach, that same feeling I’d get right before walking out to fight. It’s crazy, but it’s like your body still knows. You just feel like, OK, it’s go time. And it’s not, you know. Not anymore. But that song, man, it still does it to me.”

And yeah, it’s not hard to imagine how that happens. It’s also not hard to relate. Kind of like how, if someone were to put on “Sandstorm” right now, a part of me would start looking around for Wanderlei and doing that menacing wrist-roll thing in anticipation. Even if those glory days are gone. Even if they’re never coming back.

(Top photo of Sinead O’Connor: Jeff Bottari / Zuffa)